


Three Bullets

by a_true_neutral



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Walk Away Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_true_neutral/pseuds/a_true_neutral
Summary: [Walk Away Ending] Three bullets was all it took.





	1. Chapter 1

Three bullets was all it took. 

The first bullet hits the Sheriff at his temple. Blood sprays across the window as Death forces his body to slump forward, heavy and lifeless. The truck drives ahead with a new increase in speed before it swerves into the trunk of a large tree. 

The second bullet hits Hudson between the eyes before she fully understands what is happening. They are wide and full of terror until life vanishes from their depths. Blood flows like a steady fountain down her face and Death settles upon her in an expression of half open lids and parted lips. 

The third bullet hits Pratt in the chest while he covers his head with his hands in a futile attempt to shield himself. He sobs loudly, clutching at the bullet wound placed so close to his heart. A deep red covers his fingers and blood pools quickly through his shirt and down his front. Death is slower to take him. 

He struggles to say his final words. 

_We should never have come here._

It is only when the gun falls from her hand to her feet with a _thunk_ that Rook awakens from her catatonic state. Hours have passed and the world is dark around her except for a small sliver of moonlight that cuts through a blanket of trees. She's confused and dazed until the familiarity of her situation hits her like a train; Death is no stranger to Rook and it greets her violently. 

She can instantly smell the sweet, metallic flavor of blood and the pure _amount_ of it makes her heave. Fear churns and chews at her stomach and she lets out a piercing scream when her eyes involuntarily capture the sight of the backseat through the rearview mirror. The sound is deafening and Rook tugs fiercely at her hair, pulling and clawing at her scalp, desperate to erase the sight from her mind. Tears run down her face and nothing has ever _hurt her more._

_What about--_

_Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuckohfuckohfuckOHFUCK!_

Rook freezes, her hands tangled in her hair. Horror grips her completely as she forces herself to take in the dim silhouette of Sheriff Whitehorse and immediately she throws up onto the floor of her seat. Rook sits with her head in her lap, draining the contents of her stomach in between pained sobs and screams. It isn't long before mental and emotional exhaustion get the better of her and a stillness eventually comes to overtake her. 

Rook stares emptily at the mess of vomit that sits at her feet. She repeats a non-existent memory of Joseph Seed's arrest going smoothly and without issue, an alternate reality in which the Sheriff and the three deputies, even the Marshal, make it out of Hope County alive. A timeline where the good guys win and the bad guys lose. 

But, what was _she_ in this timeline? 

A good guy? Or a bad guy? 

Rook leans back in her chair and lets the tears cascade silently down her cheeks. She wanted to say she was still a good guy in this story but somewhere down the road she became a monster. Her colleagues, her friends, the people she tried _so desperately_ to save, were dead because of her. It was hard to dispute when there was a literal murder weapon at her feet. 

Joseph Seed was right. This is all her fault. 

_This is all my fault._

A trance seems to take over her with this realization and Rook shifts her sick covered boots until the metal outline of the pistol comes into view in the moonlight. She grabs it, the handle slick with bile, and in one swift movement cocks it and aims it at her temple. Her body is trembling as her finger hovers over the trigger and Rook closes her eyes tight enough to see stars behind her lids. 

_I'm so sorry. Everyone._

Rook swallows a painful lump and grits her teeth. She counts to three in her head and hates herself when the count gets to three and nothing happens. She hates that she's shaking as she wills her finger to _just fucking pull it_. She hates that she can kill her friends so easily but when it comes to killing herself it's a struggle. 

_"It's not your fault, Rook."_

Somewhere in the back of her mind Rook could hear the Sheriff's voice. 

_"You can't let Joseph Seed win."_

Joseph Seed. 

Joseph _fucking_ Seed. 

Rook yells through tired and strained vocal chords. It's primal and angry, a renewed wave of emotion flooding her body. She drops the pistol from her head and safeties the gun with fumbling fingers, shoving it back into the holster at her leg. Her hand gropes at the door handle and Rook viciously kicks the passenger door open. Immediately fresh, cool air enters her lungs and she revels in the wind that grazes her skin. 

After taking a moment to collect herself, Rook shuts the door behind her and staggers forward. A guilt begins to settle deep within her belly as she starts for her destination. It's a guilt for surviving what others didn't; for not walking away when she should have, for not saving those she cared about, for not being stronger, _for not killing Joseph Seed when she had the chance._

It's a guilt that will never leave her.


	2. Chapter 2

Rook arrives just as dawn begins to settle across the county. 

She trudges through the gates of the compound in a series of unbalanced steps, her body on the verge of collapse. Not a single cultist is around to stop Rook as she makes her way towards the church and she's both unnerved and relieved by it. Exhaustion had long since set in her bones and a firefight was the last thing Rook wanted to partake in. To her, it was evident that she was a walking flag of surrender. 

The white church comes into view and its doors are closed just as they were in their initial attempt to arrest Joseph Seed. On that night, those many months ago, Rook had trailed behind the likes of the Sheriff, Marshal and Hudson with a fresh mind and strong heart. Now she walks the path alone, bruised, beaten, and broken. Her skin and clothes are caked in a layer of blood, grime and sweat and Rook can smell the events of the last day radiating off of her like a poison. The small body of water that surrounds the island looks inviting for a number of reasons but Rook looks to keep her focus on the church. 

There was a purpose to this journey. 

The doors are chipped and covered in carved words and Bible verses and Rook stands with her hands hovering over the handles. She takes a deep breath and another and another before she forces herself to push the doors open with the last of her strength. Rook can't stop herself as she pitches forward and lands hard on her knees, grunt of pain escaping her lips. She watches through a curtain of fallen hair as Joseph Seed, the lone occupant, turns to regard the sudden commotion. 

He says nothing as he saunters his way down the aisle and Rook looks almost comical as she attempts to stand while grasping at the gun holstered at her side. Her fingers are sweat as they work the safety and with near incompetence chambers a bullet with a pull of the slide, raising to aim the barrel at Joseph's head. 

"You are more deserving of this bullet," Rook says through her teeth. A flood of emotion starts to rise within her now that she's here and sees the sight of him, a hurricane of sorrow, anger and hate. There are tears in her eyes and a waver in her bitter voice. "You watched me get in that truck with those people, _people that I cared about_ , and you fucking knew what was going to happen! _You fucking knew_ and you stood there and preached to me about forgiveness! If you truly forgave me you wouldn't have let me put three bullets i-in... into my..." 

A heavy sob escapes Rook and faintness is swift to threaten her. Her body sways and she leans forward to catch the side of a pew but is stopped when Joseph reaches out to catch her instead. He slowly and silently lowers Rook to the floor and she feels too weak to fight him when he goes to gently pry the gun from her fingers. Joseph places the pistol on a pew nearby before he leans back down to scoop Rook up and into his arms. She feels a protest on her lips but is too tired to fight. He stares down at her through yellow tinted glasses, his expression calm and knowing, as he carries her out of the church and down to the tiny beach of the lake. Rook can only stare back with the thought of _I hate you_ and narrowed eyes. 

She can hear Joseph step into the lake and soon she's partially floating in his arms as he stands with the water at his waist. The water is cold to the touch and it's quick to seep through her clothes and chill her bones. Rook begins to tremble slightly and Joseph pulls her closer, a warmth emanating from him. He moves a hand to under her head and she can tell _he's ready_. He's been waiting for her this whole time. 

"I will never forgive you," she says, making it a promise. 

"Think no longer of the past, my dear Deputy, and let the water wash away your sins." 

There is something hidden behind Joseph's eyes and as her head goes underwater, Rook wonders if she'll ever learn what it is.


End file.
